


The Things We Say At Night

by ferer56



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, Flushed Romance | Matesprits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2019-01-07 20:28:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12240081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ferer56/pseuds/ferer56
Summary: Vriska's tortured conscience and prickly personality make her far from the ideal matesprit. Rose somehow finds a way despite it all.





	The Things We Say At Night

Vriska thought she was going to scream. In a way she did, although not at the heavens. No, that was internalized, the way it always was. Words cruel enough to sink ships dragged their briny claws within her mind, always threatening to capsize her far away from shore.

  
But.

  
She only had to flit her eyes to the right to see the wispy blonde strands of flaxen hair forever struggling to gain dominion over exquisitely embroidered pillows, a hive-warming present from Kanaya in a previous life. A life before The Game had changed her.

  
She tried to focus on that shining beacon, but amidst the stormy sea, her mind kept cycling back to the dreary past, dragged kicking and screaming by the ghosts of those no longer here. For it seemed that despite how many sweeps came between her and those halcyon days of youthful bravado, no amount of distance could stop the whispers carried by the wind.

The whispers of those whose lives had fed her fire.

A fire that roared its hottest when others suffered in her stead.

  
A flame whose heat could keep the truth at bay.

  
Now, dim and dying, she had nothing but that truth, echoed by a thousand hollow voices.

_Worthless._

  
She felt a shuffling besides herself, her attention transfixed for a moment despite the din buzzing in her brain. Bright purple eyes stared into her own, thin lips pursed in an expression more inscrutable then the ancient language of The Furthest Ring.

  
“You’re not.” The petite blonde suddenly declared in her familiar, painfully muted voice. A voice whose tone carried far greater power than one unfamiliar with the fey blonde’s coy articulations could ever fathom. Vriska shivered beneath the brunt of the woman’s sudden declaration, sidling up against her warmth and reaching for her hand. She’d never admit it, but the Scorpio enjoyed this most of all, when the icy blonde tossed aside the snooty sarcasm that could be so fun between the two of them. Oil and water, fire and ice, always tearing each other down, unable to be reconciled.

  
Except when it did.

  
That was the beauty of it. A walking contradiction. A paradox more unbelievable then the thousands Dave had made.

  
Of course, they’d both seen more than enough in their short lifetimes to be any longer impressed by the impossible.

  
Despite that knowledge, every time the blonde’s willowy fingers would curl around the Scorpio’s own, she’d gasp with a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding. And, of course, those pliant black lips would crack into a knowing smile, sharing a secret they both shared. “I love you, Serket.”

  
Of course, Vriska never responded in kind. Not with words, in any case. Her body language, on the other hand, was more than sufficient for that purpose. A dark mane of raven hair would pool about her neck, as she nodded in mute understanding. Then she’d curl up against Rose’s snowy skin, her grey flesh tantalizingly bare and near. While not an exact parallel, Rose soon learned the significance of this was akin to a human kiss. As Vriska had explained, in a huff as always when she was flustered:

  
“ _Look, it’s just a symbol of trust, okay? That’s all! Trolls don’t ‘kiss’ or whatever it is you humans do. You really want to risk getting your lips gnawed off by, say, Terezi’s fucking choppers? Not to mention all the bacteria fluttering about so happily in our maws! It would—huh? No, no, do not pick up the mouthwash, Lalonde!_ ”

  
It hadn’t taken Rose long to work out that Scorpio had been lying through her pointed fangs. Of course, she didn’t broach the issue. Vriska was a fascinating puzzle box, her mind a knotted jumble of insecurities, impulses, and obligations. It was a miracle the woman managed to function at all, perhaps the greatest proof as to the efficacy of her aspect. Rose tendered a wan smile, before shuddering, her spine popping along her skin as she arched wantonly. A heady moan burst from between her parted lips, eyelids fluttering as a flush dabbed along her pale cheeks. She could almost taste Vriska’s smirk, that indefatigable grin that flourished whenever the mischievous blueblood had the ‘upper’ hand.

  
“I just don’t see how you can survive with flesh this pliant.” The blueblood snarked, never excusing an opportunity to preen. “It’s a wonder your bones don’t stab through your skin!” She warbled, humming a small ditty to herself as her fingers goaded the tension from the human’s back. It never failed to surprise the petite blonde how gentle her girlfriend could be, when she wanted to be. That was always the key question with Vriska, her needs magnified by a suffocating narcissism that threatened to drown herself and everyone unlucky enough to wade into the murk after her. Of course, Rose had nobody to blame but herself. It’s not like she was blind to the many outcomes her every action could elicit. And it was times like these that made that tortured path worthwhile, the little pleasures in life that kept their volatile relationship from exploding. She arched her neck needily, offering herself to her lover as she trailed her own hands along Vriska’s slender hips.

  
“I’d hate to prick you.” She replied demurely, eyeing Vriska with a neediness that was becoming increasingly hard to hide. “Not that I necessarily mind if you did.” It took a lot for Rose not to laugh, Vriska’s body temperature skyrocketing. It had been crude, perhaps. But sometimes the situation called for it.

  
Vriska recoiled instinctively, but Rose shushed her, shimmying bony hips into a more comfortable position as her slender fingers curled around Vriska’s burgeoning bulge.

  
“Every Rose has its thorn, right?” She teased playfully, Vriska’s groan audible throughout the depths of Paradox Space.

  
“Oh my god, Lalonde! You’re better than th—

  
“Hush, Serket.” Rose warbled playfully, her dexterous fingers squeezing the tip of the woman’s slender phallus. “I’m tired, horny, and I’ve left my dictionary in my other pants.”

“A-apparently...” Vriska murmured, licking her lips as shaky hands gripped marble shoulders.

  
Rose paused briefly, feeling the familiar pressure of fingers against her skin. Then she began to stroke, carefully and sensually. Vriska’s whine soon reached her ear, the girl’s breath hot and florid. Her exhalations hinted at the depths of lust pounding away in the woman’s fragmented heart, her every shaky breath a small victory for the human.

  
After all, it had taken a long time for Vriska to warm up to the idea of ceding control.

  
In matespritships, there was always a dominant partner. Equality was something that was frowned upon in their highly regimented society. Or at least, that was Vriska’s interpretation, which was close enough. Not that Rose minded. There was something undeniably sexy about how animalistic Vriska could become in the throes of passion. It was in those primal moments that Rose understood just how dangerous the blueblood was. After all, her skin was tough as leather, her stamina seemingly limitless, and her grip could easily wrench an arm out of a measly human shoulder. Sex put all of those traits into the sharpest of reliefs. And few things excited Rose more. It put sparkly vampires to shame, leaving the waif panting and sweaty, her skin blossoming in dapples of red and pink.

  
And satisfied.

  
So very _fucking_ satisfied.

  
Almost as satisfied as when Rose would grasp the wheel, her measured grasp steady and self-assured. “I said hush, Serket.” Rose replied tersely, thumbing Vriska’s bulge with a wan smile tugging at her lips. Whatever Vriska’s retort was, it was vomited up along with a shaking gasp. Rose had memorized the Troll’s most sensitive spots. That had been easy enough, Vriska not being as good an actor as her frequent histrionics would suggest. Getting the stubborn woman to admit to them, though?

  
She smiled wanly, enjoying the view of a side so rarely expressed by the neurotic Scorpio. The stammer of Vriska’s heart was loud and boisterous, a constant validation of the fey human’s efforts. “Lift your hip.” Rose commanded, the Scorpio taking a moment before acquiescing. Rose tittered in Vriska’s ear, her small hands finally delving to the girl’s base. Vriska’s reaction was immediate, as she arched her back, a guttural hiss escaping her lips. “Shoosh, Serket.” Rose whispered, her tone gentle, but firm. “Don’t make me pap you.” She teased, enjoying the feel of Vriska’s skin as it slowly heated up.

  
The Scorpio froze, her neck craning for a moment. “Y-you wouldn’t dare…”

  
“Oh, you really want to try me, Serket? I’ve faced more horrifying visages than even yours.” Rose teased, kissing Vriska’s ear and gracing the petulant Troll with her disgusting human germs. “Now behave, we’re getting to the part you like.” Rose said in a cajoling tone, her words as soft as her plush lips as the fey human pulled away to inspect the wondrous canvas of Vriska’s back. Wiry sinew and taut muscle criss-crossed the scarred landscape of the lithe Troll’s back. Countless stories were etched forever into the woman’s pores, sometimes down to the bone. She licked her lips, excited about the prospect of painting a few of her own with a far more subtle brush.

  
Subtle being an excitingly relative term.

  
She felt the girl shudder, those beautiful sinews tensing. She bit her lip for a second, before feeling Vriska’s hand hesitantly squeeze her own. Her heart nearly burst, a slight chuckle escaping from between her open lips, earning a threatening growl from her paramour. Of course, she knew the best way to shut her up, now that her darling had given assent.

  
She pressed her lips to the nape of Vriska’s neck, and softly kissed that ashen skin.

  
Vriska’s reaction was spellbinding. Her mouth fell open into an orgasmic ‘O’ of pleasure, her hand squeezing Rose’s own for dear life, hip bucking forward with the ferocity of a shotgun discharge. Vriska’s head lolled forward, the poor girl panting as she caught her breath. “It’s okay, it’s okay.” Rose assured the anxious Troll, soothing her concerns. “It’s just us, okay? Just you and I, like always.”

  
“T-the doors?”  
“Locked, calm, Vriska. Just calm, okay? The blinds are down, we’re out in the country, nobody is going to laugh at you but me.” Rose cooed, as Vriska playfully elbowed her. “Seriously, though. There’s no need to worry. Just relax with me. Relax and let me love you.”

  
Vriska mulled over that for a few seconds, before bracing herself against Rose’s chest, and pressing that adorably plush rear tauter against Rose’s pelvis. The Scorpio was eager, which only further stoked the flames of the Seer’s own lusts. She pressed her lips against Vriska’s shoulder blades, basking in the erotic dance Vriska played with her every trembling touch.

  
Her lips trailed down the Troll’s vertebra, every inch a struggle that the Scorpio was more than happy to endure. It was beautiful, almost poetic in a way, to see such gentle gestures reduce the grim and imperious Serket into a whimpering mess.

  
And this was before the Seer's dainty hand began to stroke her.

  
After her lips had traced along the glorious curvature of her back, she dragged her tongue back up that pallid column, her breath hot and needy. She kissed along the curve of Vriska’s ear, giving her paramour a brief respite as the girl’s shuddering frame continued to spasm and quake. “Are you feeling up for it?” Rose asked, the meaning of her words hardly lost on the proud blueblood. She stood stock-still for a moment, her cheeks flusher than the blueberries Terezi so often compared her blood color to.

  
Then she nodded, burying her face between the sheets.

  
Rose leaned over, kissing the girl’s cheek tenderly and earning a firm squeeze in response. She was almost precious like this, a victim of her own ‘forbidden’ desires. She was a fascinating case-study, one that Rose had eagerly pored over whenever Vriska felt confident enough to share. She’d learned, for instance, that the blueblood had never been papped. Her moirallegiance with Kanaya had been more about the status of it than anything, and she’d expressly forbidden any of the pale affections one might associate with that coupling. She viewed such intimacies as a sign of weakness, a word she’d never allow herself to be associated with.

  
Until she’d fallen into Rose’s trap.

  
The wispy blonde smiled, holding her precious spider with a reverence she was completely undeserving of. Not that such fickle facts would ever stop her. Rose was stubborn, and she knew what she wanted. And she’d never wanted anything more than she wanted the bundle of neuroses masquerading as a Troll to erupt in orgasmic ecstasy. Rose heard the softest of sobs, muffled as Vriska tried even now to hide herself from the light bearing down upon her. Rose smiled wanly. Then her hand began to stroke Vriska’s towering phallus.

  
A strangled cry sung to the Seer’s ears. Despite herself, the Scorpio was wonderfully sensitive. Deprivation tended to do that to people, and Vriska was no stranger to that. Of course, it wasn’t as if she was going to let the little spider flee from her self-inflicted passions. This was the girl’s penance, a punishment Rose was more than delighted to mete out.

  
“You don’t have to fight, Vriska.” Rose whispered, her free hand grasping the Scorpio’s bony shoulder. She had to hold on tightly, as Vriska bucked and spasmed with every tender stroke. Her bulge was drooling, staining their lovely white sheets. She was always so gorgeous when she peaked, although it always took some prodding. “You can let go, I’ll catch you.” Rose assured her darling girlfriend, dainty fingers picking up pace as she felt the alien tendril fatten beneath her touch. It was not unlike a dog’s knot, entirely vestigial in the Alternian’s own words, from a time before the mothergrub when location had been far more important to the security of their species.

  
That always brought a sly smirk to the lithe blonde’s face. She rested her cheek against Vriska’s own, feeling the clammy heat of the girl’s cold skin as a thin sheen of sweat engulfed her grey frame. “Spill for me, Serket.” She cooed affectionately, her body pressed tight against Vriska’s own. The shuddering spider lifted her head from the swaddling sheets, eyeing Rose with a vulnerability just as alien as the horns gracing her scalp.

  
“R-rose, I…” She began, the faintest traces of an excuse scrambling to reach those pouting, blue lips. Of course, Rose had come too far for that.

  
“Spill.” Rose commanded tersely. She’d played this game far too many times with the Scorpio not to have learned the rules by now. She knew, if given the opportunity, Vriska would rather suffer the indignity of whatever the Troll equivalent to blue balls were, rather than orgasm in the presence of another.

  
And she also knew that Vriska would mope about it later.

  
Rose rolled her eyes, feeling the anxiety of her paramour thrumming through her fingertips. The girl was just lucky she was so fucking interesting. She leaned over the woman’s neck, trailing her tongue along the fleshy expanse. She felt the girl freeze, her own lady boner as erect as it could ever be. Then she bit down, her teeth digging into the tough, leathery skin of her lover.

  
And with that, Vriska finally came.

  
Rose shuddered as she felt the girl unspool. There was nothing graceful, or elegant about it. It was rough and primal, Vriska’s needy croons and cries only heightening the blonde’s own pride in bringing about this momentous occasion. Bringing the Scorpio to heel brought about its own twisted satisfaction, a heady afterglow that brought a warmth to the Seer’s pale cheeks. She stroked the shuddering girl’s hair, feeling every quiver and spasm as her bulge ran blue and brilliant. “Shhhhhhhh.” She crooned, stretching the syllables to their breaking point on her paramour’s behalf. “I’ve got you.”

  
Vriska squirmed, her breaths hot as they caught against the pillow, her skin ablaze. Her shoulders mesmerized the fey blonde, muscles flexing in riveting displays of motion like the shifting of vast tectonic plates. She could ogle the majestic sight for hours, if given the chance, endlessly fascinated by the way the girl restructured herself, seemingly unable to keep still as she reeled from her heady orgasm. And in the midst of the girl’s maelstrom, Rose’s steady, commanding voice was perhaps the only constant.

  
Minutes passed like this before Vriska’s exertions finally ebbed. And Rose was there to witness that as well, a pleasant smile curling about her lip as the girl’s head finally lifted from the tear-stained pillow. Vriska gulped as she craned her neck towards her matesprit. Rose grinned, her enigmatic shell bludgeoned by the Troll’s adorable display. They shared a moment, Vriska’s bleary eyes staring into Rose’s sharp and focused own. It was times like these when they truly understood one another, their words unable to obfuscate their true emotions. Vriska’s thin lips pulled up into a thin smile, before her fingers reached up to stroke the human’s cheek. She slouched forward not long afterwards, her head resting upon the human’s bosom, her breathing soft and faint.

  
Rose fell asleep soon afterwards, a curt smile snaking its way upon the petite blonde’s winsome features, before vanishing, as if it had never been there at all.


End file.
